


We Are One of a Kind, You and I

by AriadneKurosaki



Series: Not like other demons [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, IchiRuki Week, Ichigo is an incubus, Kon is a cat, Mates, Porn With Plot, Tarot, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27226633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: The demon tilts his head at her curiously before he crouches down beside the memorial and puts it to rights. Careful hands set Hisana’s portrait back on its stand and rearrange the flowers and crystal. With a snap of his fingers, the bowl of food rights itself. “I’m sorry,” he says, and bows to the memorial so respectfully that Rukia blinks in surprise. But then he turns back to her. “You summoned me,” he says with a lazy grin on his face when he rises, “and you didn’t even use a circle.”Then he steps out of the mess of candles towards her, and Rukia realizes that she is in very, very big trouble.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Not like other demons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033266
Comments: 22
Kudos: 108
Collections: Ichiruki week





	We Are One of a Kind, You and I

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: IchiRuki Week Day 4, when a tornado meets a volcano
> 
> The title of this work is taken from the lyrics of a Kamelot song, "Poetry for the Poisoned pt II - So Long".

Rukia arranges her sister’s memorial carefully on the sandy lake shore just a few steps from the little cottage they shared before Hisana’s marriage and death. It’s the cottage in which she now lives, alone. She knows that she could have stayed in the city with Byakuya, who was kind enough to adopt her as his sister and give her his name when he married Hisana over a decade ago, but the little building on the southern side of the lake is peaceful and quiet. The other residents in the area, most of whom live in the little hamlet on the eastern side of the lake, keep their distance unless they need the sort of help that only she can provide.

For Rukia, like her sister before her, is a witch. She’s never felt _particularly_ powerful the way Hisana was – not that power could have saved her – but the spells she weaves work and the tarot readings she does are known for being particularly insightful. Those she does mostly during the summer when the tourists come through, although they almost always treat it as a lark. The work brings in money, though – money that allows her to live _mostly_ independently.

She shakes herself of her thoughts and turns back to arranging her sister’s portrait so that it is in the center of the freshly cut flowers: aster, salvia, and tiny kinmokusei form a wreath around the portrait. She places a clear quartz point in front of the portrait next to a small bowl of freshly cooked food: crispy tempura shrimp, slices of seared tuna, and sauteed vegetables over a pile of white rice. The rest of the meal is waiting inside and will be Rukia’s rather solitary dinner. Rukia lights the candles next, arranged by the portrait but far enough away that the flowers aren’t in any danger from the fire.

A flash of light from the other side of the lake – probably someone turning on their headlights – startles her, and she accidentally knocks over one of the candles. The flame dies immediately, and Rukia mutters under her breath as she rights the candle. The moon is almost fully risen, and in her hurry, she places the candle a few inches from its previous position before she lights it again.

Then she kneels and, as the moonlight hits her sister’s portrait, she prays quietly. The veil between the worlds is nearly at its thinnest, and when Rukia focuses she thinks she can feel her sister’s spirit with her. She closes her eyes and smiles, even as a few tears escape the corner of her eyes. The first anniversary of Hisana’s death was only a month previous, and the loss of her feels fresher tonight.

But the sound of the water lapping on the lakeshore is peaceful, and the scent of the flowers soothes Rukia. That is, until an explosion of energy throws her back from the memorial and onto her side. She scrambles onto her feet and stares at the scene before her, hands on her hips. Standing over the knocked-over memorial to her sister and surrounded by half-melted candles is a man with hair bright as the skin of a tangerine and honey-amber eyes. No – a demon: in the light of the moon she can see dark wings extending from his back. “ _What_ are you?” she demands, and adds indignantly, “you knocked over my sister’s memorial!”

The demon tilts his head at her curiously before he crouches down beside the memorial and puts it to rights. Careful hands set Hisana’s portrait back on its stand and rearrange the flowers and crystal. With a snap of his fingers, the bowl of food rights itself. “I’m sorry,” he says, and bows to the memorial so respectfully that Rukia blinks in surprise. But then he turns back to her. “You summoned me,” he says with a lazy grin on his face when he rises, “and you didn’t even use a circle.”

Then he steps out of the mess of candles towards her, and Rukia realizes that she is in very, very big trouble. She immediately tries to envision a defensive white light around her form, but the demon reaches her despite it. He smells _delicious_ , like warm cinnamon and vanilla. And he is _much_ bigger than her: Rukia’s head doesn’t quite come to his shoulder, and he’s twice as broad as she is. She throws up a hand in defense, power sparking at her fingertips, but the hand that wraps around her wrist is warm and surprisingly gentle even as the sparks of power snuff out.

“I’m not that kind of demon,” he tells her, and tugs her closer. “And what kind of tiny witch are you? Don’t you know better than to send out a beacon this time of year?”

At the word ‘tiny’, Rukia snaps out of the daze his scent has created and kicks his shin, _hard_. He grunts and drops her wrist as he backs up a step. “I didn’t _send out a beacon_ , whatever that is. I was holding a memorial for my sister,” she retorts. “And now I’m going to send you back to whatever hell you managed to escape.”

The demon snorts and crosses his arms over his chest. His very broad, very chiseled, very _bare_ chest. “I don’t think you can, little witch. Not if you don’t even know what a beacon is,” he drawls.

“I’ll figure it out, I won’t let you hurt me or anyone else on the lake,” Rukia snarls, and reaches in her pockets for something, anything that might help. She always carries dried herbs and crystals in her dress pockets, just in case she might need them. Her right hand closes over a chip of stone, but before she can do anything with it the demon is close to her again, so close that his heat envelops her and the delicious scent of him short-circuits some of her ire.

“I told you I’m not that kind of demon,” he growls, a scowl on his face. His hand reaches out and he trails one fingertip over the bare skin of her arm, anger apparently forgotten in favor of touching her. “Strong little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, and takes a deep breath. “You smell _delectable_. I could just eat you right…up.”

The words send heat flashing through Rukia; her cheeks feel tight with it and she ignores the beginnings of arousal in her core. “What kind of demon are you, then?” she demands. Not that Rukia knows _anything_ about demon-summoning or banishing. She’s not that kind of witch. “And _eating_ someone hurts them, I’m pretty sure.” She backs up a step, but he follows, wings swaying behind him as he grins at her. He looks surprisingly _human_ , for a demon – only the wings give him away. They’re big and almost bat-like, leathery and dark rather than feathered.

“It’s not that kind of _eating_ , either,” the orange-haired demon tells her, and leans in closer. “Usually, women are already climbing all over me by now for a demonstration. You _are_ strong.”

Rukia wants to roll her eyes, but instead one hand leaves her pocket – empty, because he’s probably right that nothing she knows how to do will have much of an effect on him. Her hand presses against his chest, to shove him away, but. _Oh_. He’s warm, hot even, and his skin is surprisingly soft for a demon. “Bragging about your conquests is unbecoming,” she manages.

He’s practically pushed against her now, heat radiating through the thin fabric of her pale blue sundress, and he leans down. “Hmm, so it is,” he agrees, and his mouth finds her neck. “I’m Ichigo, by the way,” he murmurs in a low voice against her skin. She can feel his lips curve when her other arm comes up to push him back but ends up pulling him closer instead, and Rukia can’t help the little huff of a gasp that escapes her lips when his tongue touches her skin.

“Strange name for a demon. _Strawberry?_ ”

“One protector,” he growls into her neck.

“That’s even stranger. I’m – not going to give you my soul,” she protests, but shivers when he just chuckles against her skin.

“Again, not that kind of demon,” he says, and kisses his way further down, to the neckline of her dress. His hands slide down her back and all the way to her thighs before he lifts her by them and pulls her up against his body so that her legs are dangling in mid-air.

“Wha— _oh_ ,” Rukia moans when he lines up their hips. Even covered by black jeans his cock is obvious, thick and hard where it rubs against her. Her dress is bunched up, creating a draped barrier between them, but she can still feel the _heat_ of him. Ichigo kisses her neck again and _bites_ , lightly.

“Still confused, little witch?” he asks, breath hot against her skin. “Maybe I should have been clearer. I’m not going to eat you _up,_ I’m going to lick you until you scream for me.” When the words send a shudder of arousal through her he grins again and kisses his way back up so that his eyes can meet hers, dark in the moonlight. “Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move. Oh – you like that idea, don’t you?” he asks roughly when her hips jerk against his of their own volition.

She’s pretty sure she should _not_ be having sex with a demon, but the way he feels against her, the way he’s talking, make her thighs tighten around his hips. She’s wet already, and Rukia shudders against him when his fingers tighten against her thighs. It isn’t painful, but it’s _possessive_. “Incubus,” she gasps when he grinds against her. “You’re an incubus.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, and glances up. Rukia follows his gaze: he’s looking at the cottage. He adjusts his hold on her, hands sliding to cup her ass, and with long, ground-eating strides covers the distance to the cottage. Rukia scrabbles to keep herself from falling, arms wrapping around his neck, when one hand comes up to push the door open.

“Don’t you need to be invited inside?” Rukia demands. But he just laughs and steps over the threshold, letting the door shut behind them.

“That’s vampires, little witch.”

“It’s _Rukia_ ,” she finally says, exasperated, and gasps when he pulls her tight against him again. He’s hard and thick against the wholly inadequate barrier of her rumpled dress.

“Rukia,” he repeats, voice low and rough. “That’s a good name for someone like you.” He inhales deeply, near her neck – she thinks he’s taking in the scent of her. In the electric lighting of the cabin she can see him better. His hair is shaggy and falling into his eyes, and it really is as bright as a tangerine. His skin is a little tanned. And his eyes are a gorgeous honey-amber when they look into hers. As she watches, he turns his attention to her home.

Rukia’s cottage is _adorable_ , she knows. The living room is small, but the walls are painted a pale yellow that peeks around Hisana’s landscape paintings. The kitchen is to the left, just one wall of appliances and cabinets. There is a spot next to the door with food and water bowls, and as Rukia watches Ichigo looks for and finds the orange cat curled up on one corner of her sofa. The cat doesn’t seem at all interested in the fact that his mistress is being manhandled.

Then Ichigo spots the open door into her bedroom, and he bites lightly at her neck again as he carries her inside and shuts the door behind them. The bedroom is _small_ , the bed barely a double and unmade, with wrinkled but relatively clean blue sheets. But moonlight floods into the space from a skylight overhead, so bright that they can still see one another clearly. “You get,” he says as he lowers her onto it, then leans over her, hands sliding beneath her dress, “one chance to tell me _no_ , Rukia.”

She blinks up at him, already too warm and her underwear soaked through. “I didn’t think incubi gave their victims a choice,” she gets out before gasping as his hands tighten around her hips again.

“I’ve heard that,” Ichigo agrees. “But I’m not that kind of incubus, either.” And before she can puzzle over that, he says, “So?” as he strokes a finger along her thigh.

Rukia doesn’t think it’s entirely fair of him to ask that when he’s so very close, hands searing hot on her bare skin and still smelling so good that _she_ wants to eat _him_ up. “Yes,” she says, surprising herself, and drags in a breath when his hands tighten. But she doesn’t have time to second-guess her answer: his hands are sliding up, dragging her dress over her head and flinging it to one side.

“Oh,” he says as he looks at her so intently that Rukia’s hands come up to try and cover herself. He stops her, hand grasping one of hers to keep her still. “Oh, don’t do that, little witch,” he orders. The plain white bra she wears opens in the front and Ichigo has it open with a flick of his fingers so that he can lower his mouth to her breasts. He isn’t _gentle_ about that, and Rukia cries out as his lips close around one nipple and tug, sucking until it’s almost painfully hard. His hands slide down and pull her knees open so that he can kneel between them. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”

Her cheeks are so hot she’s surprised they aren’t on fire as he pulls her underwear away, leaving her bare. The way he looks at her, tongue darting out to lick his lips, has her covering her face until he pulls her hands away with a little growl. “Told you not to hide from me,” he repeats, and then adds, “Do it again and I might just have to tie you to the bed.”

Rukia shivers, arousal a hard knot in her belly, and squirms as she feels herself getting even wetter. She’s probably ruining the sheets, but the very _idea_ is shockingly hot to her. “Well…”

Ichigo smirks in response. “Oh, you like that idea? Maybe later, then.” Then he lowers his lips again. But this time his mouth finds the curve of her other breast and sucks until he leaves a red mark behind. Rukia’s breath hitches in her throat as one hand pushes her knees further apart and then slides between them, finding her center.

She shakes when one finger dips inside her and clutches the sheets beneath her as Ichigo hums under his breath. “You’re already soaked for me,” Ichigo says, the words practically a purr. He brings his finger up to his mouth and she watches, mouth dropping open a little, as he licks it clean. What little she’s read of incubi has indicated that they are far more concerned with their own pleasure and draining their victim of their lifeforce than of pleasing their victim _._

Then he lowers his mouth to her pussy and Rukia’s train of thought derails entirely. His mouth – she hisses out her pleasure as he laps at her, licking through her folds from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit and drawing shapes with his tongue. “You’re so wet,” Ichigo murmurs against her skin, making her shiver, and when two fingers slide into her, Rukia moans her relief and pleasure even as she bucks up toward his mouth. She feels him grin before he continues, tongue finding the already-swollen bud of her clit and teasing at it while she cries out, a high-pitched and broken noise.

Her world narrows to the thrust of his fingers, to the way they crook up and search for something that makes her mewl with pleasure and choke on air when his lips close around her clit and _suck_ , while his free hand traces her skin. His fingers are so hot they nearly burn, or maybe it’s her who’s on fire, sitting at the edge of her bed and watching a man – a demon – she’s just met go down on her like she’s his last meal. Helplessly, one hand lifts from the bed and sinks into his hair instead. It’s surprisingly soft, but she clutches at it roughly when he does _something_ with his teeth and tongue that make the world go white.

His eyes meet hers, the amber of them nearly gone in favor of blown-wide pupils that gleam in the moonlight. “Are you going to come for me?” he asks, and crooks his fingers again.

Rukia cries out and bucks up into his mouth again. “Ye-es,” she manages, and shudders when his hand stops tracing shapes in favor of holding her down. It’s already too much, too much, and she falls back against the bed, looking up at the moon as Ichigo drives her pleasure higher.

“Good,” Ichigo murmurs into her skin, and when he adds a third finger she chokes on air again and the hand grasping the bedsheets clutches so hard that she hears stitches pop. It’s nothing compared to the loud, _lewd_ slurp of his mouth working over her wet skin, the slick slide of three fingers deep in her pussy, fucking into her. The world goes hazy as she spirals higher and higher, until Ichigo orders, “Come for me, Rukia.”

She falls over the edge in a haze of pleasure, pussy clenching around his fingers and pulling them in deeper so that he has to stop fucking and instead presses as deep as he can. She can hear the loud, high-pitched cry that leaves her mouth but can’t stop it, can hear the way she gasps his name. Her hips, constrained by his hand, still try to buck up toward him. Rukia’s whole body shakes with the pleasure that radiates from her center. When she comes back to herself, his fingers pull away and Rukia blushes as she feels the gush of fluid leaking from her. Ichigo is looking at her again, wings partially stretched out and lips curled in a grin, and Rukia can’t quite stop herself from hiding her eyes with her forearm.

“Hmmm, I told you not to hide,” Ichigo reminds in that low voice of his. He rises from his kneeling position as Rukia peeks out from around her arm, and her mouth falls open as Ichigo pulls the snug, black jeans and a pair of dark gray boxers down his body.

 _Apparently demons wear boxers_ , she thinks inanely. But it’s his cock, hard and thick, that she’s really staring at. “That’s…not going to fit,” Rukia says in a hushed whisper. But she sits up and reaches for him, hand wrapping around his length. Her fingers don’t meet. Her hands are small, it’s true, but he’s – well. Ichigo is _big._ His hips jerk toward her hand instinctively, and Ichigo looks down at her, amber eyes dark and gleaming as he stands between her legs.

“It will,” Ichigo disagrees and lets out a little hiss of pleasure as she strokes him. His lips are red, and his mouth and chin are still gleaming with her slick under the moonlight. When he licks his lips again another jolt of arousal buzzes through her.

“What if I want to…?” She blushes at the words that pop out of her mouth, but Ichigo just raises an eyebrow.

“Want to what?” He jerks closer again as she strokes. Rukia finds herself looking up at him, eyes partially hidden by her lashes. Ichigo wipes the back of his hand against his mouth and chin before he leans in to whisper into her ear. “Say it, Rukia,” he murmurs, but there’s an order behind the softness of his voice. “Tell me what you want.”

She almost chickens out. It’s been _a while_ and he’s – well, Ichigo’s cock is thick, _and_ he’s an incubus. She probably isn’t even any good at—

“Stop thinking about it and tell me,” he says into her ear, voice low and rough as he pushes himself into her hand.

“I want to taste you,” Rukia blurts out, and watches as his eyes widen. He jerks into her hand again and his cock seems to swell.

“Yes,” Ichigo says through hitched breaths. Then he leans in even closer. His hands are on either side of her, fingers twisting in the sheets. He boxes her in and whispers into her ear, “Kneel for me.”

The words send a shock of pleasure and arousal through her and Rukia finds herself whispering, “Uh-huh.” There’s a moment of awkwardness when they rearrange themselves, but he sits at the very edge of the bed, and then she’s between his spread legs.

Up close, his cock is even bigger and it’s a little intimidating – although strangely, _he_ isn’t. His eyes look into hers, but he doesn’t hurry her. The huff of breath he lets out when she licks the head of it gives her a little thrill, and she watches him as she slides her tongue along his skin, one arm flung over his thigh and the other wrapping around the base of his cock. Ichigo groans and she can feel how he barely manages to keep his hips from jerking forward.

Soon enough she has her mouth wrapped around him, lips stretched and sucking as she pumps him. Her violet eyes look up, watching him. His eyelids are fluttering; when she takes more of his cock into her mouth Ichigo’s mouth drops open on a loud moan and his hand tangles in her hair. He does buck up toward her, then, and Rukia can only take more of him, cheeks hollowing as she sucks and twists her hand around his cock. His whole body is shaking beneath her, and she hums under her breath.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, and his fingers tighten in her hair painfully. He leans over her, flame-bright bangs falling into his eyes as his free hand fists in the sheets and his cock leaks precum into her mouth. She bobs up and down on his length, and though she’s the one kneeling for him she feels _powerful_ all of a sudden: she can make an incubus shake.

His hand slides from her hair as he pulls his hips back, cock falling from her mouth with a pop, and Rukia looks up at him as she licks her lips. “Had enough?” she asks, a little breathlessly.

“Not even close,” Ichigo breathes, and pulls her up. He has her on her back, legs hanging off the bed before she can react, before he drags her legs up so that they press against his stomach and chest. Her legs are just barely long enough for her ankles to rest on his shoulders.

That shiver of anticipation and anxiety returns, and she says again, “I’m really not sure you’re going to fit.” But she _wants_ him to. Oh, she aches with it, inner walls clenching on nothing.

Two of his fingers pump into her again and his thumb finds her clit as he tells her, “Don’t worry.”

Rukia moans at the feel of his hand on her, but props herself up on her elbows to look at him and then at his cock. “But it’s—” _Huge_ , she wants to say. _Been a really long time_ , she wants to add. Instead when he pulls his fingers away and slides the head of his cock against her overheated, sopping wet pussy she throws her head back and moans for him, hands once more clutching the bedsheets.

Ichigo’s hands wrap around her ass to lift her and his cock, slick with her juices, pushes inside of her. A shrill cry of pleasure leaves her, one that Ichigo echoes with a low groan. He grips her tightly and bucks into her, body shuddering against her legs as he bottoms out inside of her. She is stretched wide around him, so full that Rukia’s legs shake against him in turn. Then he starts to _move_ , slick and _hot_ inside of her, and Rukia shudders with the pleasure of it, even as she blushes at the sound of their bodies coming together, slick with her juices.

He doesn’t take his time: Rukia has barely adjusted to the size of his cock before his hips are snapping back and forth, driving himself into her as deep as he can get and grinding against her on each thrust. All Rukia can do is moan for him, hips bucking into him as her hands clutch for purchase. His moans reach her, too, and she can’t help but be pleased that he seems to _really_ like this. He leans over her, pushing her legs toward her chest, and orders, “Touch yourself for me.”

Rukia’s right hand slides immediately down her body and she begins to rub her clit. She’s never been this wet, never been this full, and even her clit has never been this sensitive. When she moans for him and her pussy clenches tight around his cock Ichigo gasps her name and leans over her. “Yes,” he hisses. “I want you to come for me again and again, all over my cock, because I’m going to keep fucking you until you can’t move.”

The words send another jolt of pleasure through her, another burst of arousal and fluid dripping between them. “I’m…” Rukia swallows hard and rubs her clit even harder. “I’m going to hold you to that.” Ichigo’s eyes widen, but then he grins down at her and fucks harder. She’s ruining her sheets, but all Rukia can do is moan for him and rub herself through a second orgasm that has her pussy fluttering and clutching his cock while Ichigo grinds into her. He fucks her through it in short, sharp thrusts before he falls over the edge after her, moaning her name as he shudders with pleasure and spills himself into her.

She looks up at him, expecting him to pull away, but instead he _keeps fucking_ , cock still hard inside of her. His thrusts send their combined release spilling from her, dripping on her skin and his. When he pulls out, making Rukia gasp at how _empty_ she suddenly feels, Ichigo smirks down at her and joins her on the bed. His cock is still hard, and gleaming wet. “Come here,” he says, and pulls her onto his lap.

His hands grip her hips and lift her onto his cock, filling her again. Rukia shivers atop him and without prompting rides him, first slowly and then falling into a faster rhythm. Ichigo keeps a hand on her hip to guide her while his mouth finds her breasts again, lips sucking on first one nipple and then the other while his other hand tangles in her hair. Then he drags her mouth to his and kisses her for the first time, lips searing hot and tongue immediately sliding between the seam of her lips to find hers. He grinds up into her when Rukia slows down, consumed with the kiss, and pants into his mouth.

“Didn’t think…incubi kissed either,” she gasps out, and Ichigo bucks up, _hard_ , in response so that she squeaks.

“Ride me harder,” he orders into her mouth instead of answering her, and Rukia keens as his hand leaves her hip in favor of sliding between them to rub again. Her arms slide around him and meet the space where his wings join his body. The moment she touches them he gasps, and Rukia – well, Rukia sinks down onto him and _rubs_ them, hoping to hear that again. A breeze blows through the room and her table lamp crashes to the floor; she realizes that it’s his wings, spreading to their full span and then arching around her as if to envelop her.

“O-oh, I guess you like that,” she whispers teasingly, and Ichigo’s eyes open to stare into hers, gleaming amber.

“I didn’t say you could stop fucking me,” he murmurs in her ear, and grins at her in the moonlight. His hands grasp her hips again and he takes control, fucking up into her and pulling her down onto his cock as she pants and moans his name. But her hands reach greedily for his wings again and she can’t help pulling at them a little, can’t resist leaning so that her back brushes against them. His name breaks in her mouth as he gasps and bucks up raggedly.

“Mnh – you like having your – mm – your wings touched,” Rukia gasps out, until her words are muffled by Ichigo’s lips once more. He pulls out of her again and she protests with a whine.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you,” Ichigo murmurs, his voice practically a purr in her ears as he rolls with her, getting her onto her back and sliding his hands up her arms. He’s so _hot_ against her, and she’s so _empty_ that Rukia bucks up against him, grinding her dripping wet pussy against his cock for relief. He hisses with shocked pleasure even as he pulls her arms over her head and uses one hand to pin both of her wrists together.

“I thought you said you weren’t done,” Rukia whines as he looks down at her. She’s a mess: sweaty hair, red marks from his lips and teeth on her skin, and her body quivering still with arousal and _need_.

“I’m not,” Ichigo assures her, and tugs her leg up over his hip. When he thrusts home his mouth slants against hers, muffling her moans with his lips as he rocks into her and angles his thrusts to hit just right. When she keens his name high into his mouth and gushes, he grins and slides his free hand between them again. This time when the wave of her orgasm pulls her under, Ichigo thrusts short and sharp into her, hips erratic. “Again,” he insists.

She can feel him starting to lose control, can hear it in the way he moans for her. “I can’t—” Rukia’s heart is ready to beat itself right out of her chest and she struggles to draw in a full breath, but her body ignores her protest and as he rubs her clit and _fills_ her another white-hot wave of pleasure crashes over her, one that pulls a high, long moan of his name from her lips and a gush of fluid spilling between them.

Ichigo follows her. He fucks her through it before groaning her name and shuddering against her. His hand lets her wrists go and Rukia throws her arms around him to brace herself as he comes inside her with low, throaty moans in her ears, cock rocking into her and spilling into her over and over until she is overflowing and their combined release drips between them, coating her thighs and his. His teeth find her neck again and _bite_ , harder and claiming, before he slants his mouth over hers again, but suddenly Rukia’s limbs feel so heavy, and even though she tries to drag him closer amid the shock of pleasure and pain, darkness takes her instead.

When Rukia wakes, sunlight is just beginning to filter through the skylight overhead. The lamp is unharmed on the nightstand and her sheets and blanket are tucked neatly around her. “What a strange dream,” she whispers, surprised to find that her voice is hoarse. She pushes back the sheets and blanket and struggles to roll to the edge of the bed and set her feet on the floor. Her muscles are _sore_ , and she is sticky. _Very_ sticky. She aches in a way that brings a flush to her face. _Maybe it wasn’t a dream…?_ she thinks.

Then her bedroom door opens and Ichigo is there. His wings seem to be gone and he has a pair of loose, dark gray pajama pants hanging low on his hips. Kon slips past him, twining around her legs and chirping at Rukia as she stares at the incubus. “You’re real,” she says intelligently, absently petting the orange cat. “Where are your…?” Rukia gestures at her back. She takes a step towards him and wobbles.

“I don’t need them when I’m not hunting,” Ichigo explains as he steps through the doorway and swings her into his arms before she can fall. “I fed your little beggar here and drew you a bath a few minutes ago.”

Rukia leans against him as he carries her into her bathroom, Kon trotting after them. She catches a glimpse of herself, hair in total disarray and marks all over her body, as they pass the mirror. Then Ichigo sets her down in a tub filled with steaming hot water. “Is this normal procedure for an incubus?” she asks, bewildered, as he hands her a washcloth.

“No.” He ushers the cat out ahead of him and shuts the door, leaving Rukia to stare in continued bewilderment. There is a pull, suddenly – she wants to crawl out of the bath and follow him. But the water is wonderful on her muscles and so she pushes down that desire and instead washes every inch of her body, blushing as she swipes the cloth over developing marks on her hips and thighs. She washes her hair, too, before draining the tub and drying herself off with a fresh towel. Apparently Ichigo has been through her drawers and closet – folded neatly on the countertop are a clean bra and panties, and a purple sundress hangs from the towel rack.

When she steps out of the bathroom, hair dried and the sundress covering her, Rukia is still a little unsteady on her feet. The scent of her uneaten meal from last night hits her, and she stares at Ichigo, who is just setting food on the table. “I don’t understand,” she murmurs.

“You fed me _very_ well last night.” Ichigo pulls a chair out and ushers her into it. “You need to eat to regain your energy.” His mouth brushes against her neck, making her shiver pleasantly.

But: “Aren’t you supposed to leave me, debauched and ruined, in the middle of the night? This is…very domestic for a demon whose source of food is sex with a human,” Rukia says wryly. Still, she squirms uncomfortably when he steps back toward the kitchen and away from her.

Ichigo places a glass of water in front of her. “Never thought I’d hear someone complain that I’m being too polite.” He scowls at her. “I just didn’t want you to starve, little witch.” He opens her front door and steps outside without another word, and by the time she gets to the doorway he’s gone.

Rukia returns to her table and sits once more, then leans back in her chair contemplatively. Eventually, she eats her food mechanically and cleans up the dishes. When she walks – slowly, she’s still _very_ sore – into her bedroom to change the sheets she finds that the incubus has already done that, and her bed is made with almost military precision. She spends the rest of the day in a daze: she cleans up her sister’s memorial and scatters the flowers on the lake water, which is easy enough, but when she tries to read the words seem to scramble themselves on the page. Tending to her garden is an impossibility given how sore she is.

Eventually, Rukia lies down for a nap and sleeps until sunrise with Kon curled up at the foot of the bed. The next two days go something like that: a daze of completing only those truly essential tasks. She feeds Kon, she feeds herself (well…occasionally), and on the third day she digs up an old book of Hisana’s on demon summoning. While Rukia has no intention of going down _that_ path, she does want to make sure she doesn’t accidentally set up a “beacon” again. But the book is singularly unhelpful: the process it describes for creating such a thing is so complex that her memorial to Hisana couldn’t possibly have created one – not even accidentally.

She still feels his hands on her and wonders if there’s some kind of withdrawal period after being an incubus’ meal. It wouldn’t surprise her – but Rukia’s a little put out that he just up and wandered off without warning her about it. For all his talk about _not being that kind of demon_ , he certainly still left her sore and aching for him.

Rukia rarely does a tarot reading for herself, but when the sun has nearly set and the sky above is covered by the dark blue cloak of night, she sits outside on the little porch with her tarot deck and shuffles the cards. Mindful that _she_ is the person asking the question, Rukia shuffles several times to clear her mind and cuts the deck only when she feels ready. She’s too tired for the complex spreads that she uses for paying customers, and settles for three cards, each laid face down on the little coffee table on the porch.

The first one she turns over is the Hermit, reversed, and Rukia laughs faintly. That isn’t a surprise: though she has neighbors of a sort, and customers, she has largely been alone since Hisana’s death. The second card is the Two of Cups, and she puzzles over that a while. She was certainly attracted to the incubus – that much is clear, as even now when she thinks of him she can feel a little bolt of heat low in her abdomen. But he’s gone. Rukia places her fingers on the third card and purses her lips. When she turns it over to see that it’s another of the major arcana, the Lovers, she falls back against the cushions of her chair and closes her eyes.

“It must be a false reading,” she mutters, and reaches for the deck again. A sudden breeze buffets her and Rukia has to grab for the cards to keep them from being blown away. When she has put the deck in its little velvet bag again, _he_ is there, wings blocking her view of the lake and a puzzled expression on his face.

“You’re not even practicing magic this time,” Ichigo complains, “but I felt you pulling me here.”

Rukia blinks up at him. “I just finished a tarot reading for myself. And I read up on beacons – I didn’t create one the other night.”

Ichigo hums under his breath. It’s a sound of curiosity, she thinks. “Do a reading for me?” he asks.

“Will that even work on a demon?” But Ichigo just waves a hand and sits down on the chair across from her, wings draping over the back. Rukia brings the cards back out and hands them to him. “Shuffle them and think about whatever question you want answered,” she instructs. She watches as he does. Oddly, she feels a little better with him here, a little less like she’s trying to walk around underwater.

His wings are out, which he’s told her means he’s hunting – and something about the idea of him hunting for someone other than _her_ makes her so _jealous_ for a moment that she has to clutch at her skirts and breathe deep to clear her mind. _It was just a one-night stand. With a demon. Okay, with a really hot demon who gave me five orgasms and then ran me a bath and fed my cat._

Finally, Ichigo sets the deck back down.

“Cut the deck,” she tells him, and watches as he picks up a segment of the cards and sets them beside the first pile. Rukia selects the first card and lays it out on the table. It’s the Two of Cups again, and she flushes. But it isn’t just about a single card, so she selects the second card and it’s the Lovers. Ichigo is watching her carefully. The third card she turns over is the Devil. “Do you know anything about tarot cards?”

“The Devil’s probably bad, right?” Ichigo asks wryly, but Rukia just shakes her head.

“Not necessarily.” She points at the Devil card. “It may be that this card represents you. You’re an incubus. The Devil card can be about negative things like addiction, but it can also represent sexuality.” Rukia taps the Lovers card and the Two of Cups in turn. “These turned up in the reading I did for myself,” she explains.

“Hn. I can guess what the Lovers card means. And the other?”

“Mutual attraction, partnership…love.” Rukia’s cheeks feel hot as she says the words.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Ichigo asks, but his eyes are honey-amber and intent as he looks at her.

Rukia takes a deep breath and reaches forward. She pulls another card from the deck and sets it next to the first three. It’s the Hermit, reversed, again. “If I hadn’t watched you shuffle this deck, I’d think it was rigged. That’s the first card I selected for my own reading.” She purses her lips and looks up at him. “Why did you really come back?”

“I _told_ you, I felt you pulling me. It drew me here like – a light.” Then Ichigo mumbles something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“I said – I don’t want to hunt.” Ichigo scowls at her and averts his eyes.

“So you’re feeling lazy and wanted an easy meal?” She arches an eyebrow at him.

But he just shakes his head vehemently and scowls at her. “I don’t want to hunt anyone else. I want—” Ichigo’s cheeks flush. “You.” The words send a little swoop of something – is it _hope_? Through Rukia’s body.

“Have any other incubi you know ever described something like that?”

Ichigo shrugs uncomfortably. “Yeah, one.”

“And?” Rukia asks impatiently. The cards still sit between them, and she can see him looking at them again.

“He said she was his mate. They live together and she’s the only one he feeds off of.” Ichigo’s looking at her again, and there’s something different in his eyes. She thinks it might be a little hope of his own.

“And does anyone care about that? Is his…mate healthy?”

“Nah, no one cares. There’s not exactly an incubus hierarchy,” Ichigo says with a shrug. “And she’s plenty healthy. Weird taste in food, though. Last time I visited she served donuts with wasabi frosting and a cheese filling.”

The expression on his face is so disgusted that Rukia laughs despite herself. But she’s exhausted, still, and she leans back in her chair, head falling against the cushions. “I guess it’s a good thing your friend doesn’t need to eat,” she mumbles.

But Ichigo stands again. “When did _you_ last eat?” he asks, and without so much as a by-your-leave he lifts her into his arms. His wings shimmer and disappear as he does it.

“Hmm? Yesterday maybe? I haven’t really been hungry,” Rukia murmurs, and leans her head against his chest. He still smells _really_ good and she would kiss him if she wasn’t so tired. He carries her inside and sets her on the sofa, gently pushing her hands away when she grabs for him.

“I’ll make you something. Just sit there,” Ichigo growls a little. Rukia draws back and she can feel her eyes sting. It’s a totally irrational reaction – she wasn’t afraid of him three nights ago, why does the harshness in his voice hurt now? Ichigo’s expression softens immediately and he lightly kisses her forehead. “I’m just going into the kitchen,” he promises. Then he straightens up and walks across the room before she can protest.

Kon jumps up onto the sofa and curls up on her lap as she watches Ichigo. Rukia pets him absently and the purring that rises from the orange cat soothes her. “You can cook?” she asks a little groggily a few minutes later as Ichigo starts rice in her little electric rice cooker, sets a pan on her stove and turns the burner on, then begins to chop up vegetables.

“I learned the basics.” There is a scraping sound and then sizzling as the vegetables hit the hot pan. Kon abandons her when a cat food can is opened. She can’t see from her angle on the couch, but she hears Ichigo talking, suddenly, and thinks he must be on a cellphone. “Ishida. Yeah, I – how did you know? Hn.” His voice fades in and out as Rukia dozes, but she hears the words “Three days. Yeah, I didn’t kn—I’m not an _idiot_ , just…yeah, okay, that was stupid of me…What did _you_ do?...Don’t worry, I won’t.”

She rouses herself when Ichigo lifts her again. “I can walk,” she mumbles.

“I’m sure you can. But I like holding you,” he says, and Rukia perks up a little.

“You do?”

“I do. But you’re incubus-sick and you need to eat,” Ichigo explains. He sets her down in a chair; set on the table in front of her is a bowl of rice and vegetables with fried eggs on top. “You’ll feel better after you do.”

Rukia picks up the chopsticks set next to the bowl and looks up at him, but Ichigo just kisses her forehead again and starts to wash up the pan and rice cooker.

After she (and Kon) have eaten under his watchful eye, Ichigo carries her to bed and pulls her dress from her body. Rukia suspects that the cure for this “incubus-sick” state is being fucked by him again – but Ichigo just tucks her close to him, bare chest hot against her skin. “What’s incubus-sick?” Rukia asks. The food helped but being held is better. Already the exhaustion and haze are clearing from her body.

“Withdrawal,” Ichigo murmurs as he kisses her forehead again. “I shouldn’t have left, not when I saw how…affected you were. But I was scared.”

The words startle her and Rukia looks up, eyes meeting his. “ _Scared_?” she asks.

“Hn.” His arm tightens around her and his cheeks flush. “You were right, you didn’t create a beacon. And your magic is right. Every part of you is _right_ , little witch.”

Her heart thumps in her chest, and she can feel his going as well, rhythm aligning with hers. “And that’s scary?” Rukia asks, as she drapes one arm over his chest and tangles her legs with his.

Ichigo huffs. “Incubi don’t usually want to draw baths or feed the cat,” he points out. “And they – we – don’t stop wanting to _hunt_. It’s kind of a key part of being an incubus.” His hand slides over her bare back and rubs gently, warm and soothing against her flesh. She isn’t wearing a bra, and so his hand strokes unimpeded from the small of her back up to her shoulders, over and over.

“So…?”

“Going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Ichigo grumbles, and there is a flush on his cheeks that Rukia decides is _adorable_. When she just stays silent, he says reluctantly, “You’re my mate.” He ducks his head and brushes his lips over the fading marks where he bit her neck.

That sets _her_ cheeks heating, too, but Rukia points out, “We barely know each other, except… well. The part where we had lamp-breaking sex.”

The words pull a laugh from Ichigo, and he tugs her closer to him. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll take you out on a date. But why don’t you start by telling me the name of the little beggar who’s curled up between my ankles?”

Rukia raises her head; sure enough, Kon is at the foot of the bed, tail and paws tucked under and head resting on Ichigo’s ankle. She laughs helplessly and says, “That’s Kon. I guess he likes you.”

“And do you think his mistress will do the same?”

There is something so _hopeful_ in his tone that she tilts her head up to brush her lips against his. “Mhm…I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Rukia murmurs.

His mouth covers hers, and a few minutes later the cat wisely decides to be elsewhere.


End file.
